


Ten years

by pilpa



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:15:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1730762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pilpa/pseuds/pilpa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He walks in the darkness again, along the side of Avalon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten years

He walks in the darkness again, along the lake of Avalon. It is a summer night. Winds are damp, hot with fishy smell. The echoing sounds of waves hitting the shore make him wonder why water never ceases to return, yet it never brings him back. Would he also have this fishy smell when he returns? He amuses himself with that idea, a tease already on his tip yet swallowed. Heaving a sigh he unconsciously clutches his ragged bag. This is just another ten years.

Walking past the lake, past all those noises, lives and hopes he always holds when he nears the lake, he comes back to the forest, his forest. It's not like the others, which always have some unknown insects moving around, gnawing at the leaves, rustling like there's someone standing right behind him, like if he turns around he'll find...no, nothing like this. The forest is his refuge and salvation, blocking the outside world and granting him a place of peace. He'd spent years wandering here, stuck in his memories, regrets and pains. There was so much pain in his heart that he had to let the stones, branches and bones cut his feet and arms, only to match his body to his mind. He'd held a rotten tree in arms, imagining himself being one, nibbled and eaten away. The feeling of being broken down was almost a bliss for one no longer desired to feel. He'd even believed that maybe he was just a madman who'd mistaken himself to be the Merlin, murmuring all sorts of hypotheses and proofs. Or maybe the legend was true that he was indeed stuck here, forever until 'Albion's need is greatest'. But at last he walked out with trembling legs. Those insane moments preserves his sanity.

He comes to the clearing, gathers some branches, sits on the ground and casts a wordless spell to light the fire. Next to him is the tree that guards his letters. Those are letters for him in case he's no longer here when he returns. He's listed all the changes that have happened over years and to keep up with the tide of time he rewrites these letters every ten years (actually at first every fifty years but these days things do get changed). He takes the newly written ones out of his bag and replaces the old ones. They are all well preserved under his protecting spell and he wishes that the last ones wouldn't be ruined should his magic expired. And then he tossed the old ones into the fire. They burn. Once there was a time he would open the letters and try to read them one by one, amazed by his own thoughts all those years ago. He'd even thought the World War II to be the end of world and Arthur would return. Now he's just too numb for that. The past selves and the future ones are just alike, empty and waiting for an end, either Arthur will be back or he will die. It's just a matter of time and agony. Sometimes he doubts if this waiting has simply become a practice to convince himself to stay and perhaps it is time to move on.

But he will wait for another ten years, for sure. It's all that he's got.


End file.
